Shopping With The Slytherin Snake
by LavvyLav
Summary: “I knew it,” she accused. “You are just trying to seduce me.”“Perhaps,” Draco responded with a grin. “But I guarantee that you'll enjoy it.”.And, as he kissed her again, Hermione was forced to admit that she rather agreed. Oneshot, DHr.


Disclaimer: The following story is for entertainment purposes only, and sadly, does not belong to the author. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling who would likely sue the pants off said author if she discovered the manner in which her characters are being portrayed. If Ms. Rowling, due to a series of highly unlikely events, is somehow reading this, the author would like to point out that she is very poor and therefore not worthy of being sued.

Summary: A one-shot in which Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, after spending the day together, decide that perhaps seduction is a rather fun game to play.

A/N: Written because I needed a break from _It's Not About Us._ I was getting a bit depressed from it and wanted something with Draco and Hermione actually happy. Enjoy!

**Shopping With The Slytherin Snake**

Hermione Granger walked into the Great Hall for breakfast Saturday morning utterly exasperated. That morning, she had woken to an extremely bad hair day (shades of Harry Potter), had waited thirty-seven minutes to use the shower, and had been _ogled_ by some fourth year Ravenclaw who, ignoring her Head Girl status invited her to do some very interesting...things Hermione wasn't sure were humanly possible, let alone legal anywhere in Great Britain. And, to top it all off, she was about to spend the entire day being _entertained _by Draco stick-up-his-arse Malfoy.

Ronald Weasley looked up, concerned at his friend's huffy entrance. "You okay there, Hermione?"

"Oh, sure," she replied sarcastically. "I'm just having the worst morning _ever _but I'm sure I'll survive. So...what's for breakfast?"

Ron muttered something that sounded like "Shawshages n' shegs", while casting pleading looks at Harry that clearly said "I'm too busy eating to cheer Hermione up, why don't you have a go at it"?

"Hermione," Harry began in what he thought was a proper 'chipper up' voice, "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll take care of it. After all, you _are_ the smartest witch in the year!" He looked rather pleased with himself after that little speech and inconspicuously high (or rather low) fived Ron under the table.

"Thanks guys," Hermione said, too amused at the thought of Ron and Harry thinking they were clever to be annoyed with their lack of compassion. Men, after all, she reasoned, are rather oblivious to the world beyond Quidditch...and food she added, watching Harry and Ron shoveling 'shawshages n' shegs' into their mouths.

After finishing off their food in record time, Harry and Ron announced that they were off to the Quidditch Pitch. Inner Hermione gloated at her correct assessment of the male psyche, and resigned herself to the rest of the day.

* * *

As she walked into Hogsmeade, she asked herself several times what the hell she was doing. After all, was it really necessary that the Head Girl _and_ Head Boy be in charge of the Start of the Year Ball? Granted, it _was_ her fault they were having a ball to start with, but it had been more of a suggestion. Something for the prefects to suffer headaches over while the Head Girl (Hermione) and Head Boy (Draco-ugh) gazed on, nodding their heads in superiority. Foolish Hermione-she thought that a Ball would promote inter-house unity. Instead, it provoked the already unsteady relationship with the Slytherin Snake, Draco Malfoy.

Although, she admitted to herself, he hadn't been acting as horrid as usual. In fact, they sometimes shared good times-not that she'd admit it to anyone, barring an exceptionally large dose of Veritaserum. The only reason he really pissed her off, was because he was Draco Malfoy, and that was reason enough in itself.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was rather looking forward to the trip. And why not? He was a virile young man about to accompany a rather attractive young woman about town. Not that he'd admit to anyone he actually found buck-toothed, bushy-haired Granger attractive. Of course, her teeth _had _improved since fourth year. And her hair, though not worthy of an advertisement in Witch Weekly, was tamer than it had been. A year ago, Malfoy would have died rather than being seen public with the Mudblood. But now, things had changed. _My, how they've changed,_ he thought, as Hermione walked up to him in front of the Three Broomsticks.

"Well Malfoy, let's get this over with," Hermione said, gritting her teeth.

"I see today is _not_ going to be one of those days we act civil towards one another."

"Aren't we observant," the witch sneered.

"I presume that we're taking a trip down memory lane, insulting each other as we did when we still hated each other?" _There_ was a lapse in speech. While Draco did not hate Hermione (and he was relatively certain she didn't hate him either) , he hadn't been planning on announcing it.

Apparently, neither was Hermione. "Speak for yourself, ferret. I can assure you that my feelings towards you are nothing close to resembling _civil._"

"Granger, if you're going to begin this insulting nonsense, I suggest you come up with something a bit less tired than _ferret_. That was what, three years ago? You don't see _me_ bringing up the past, do you? Speaking of the past, how's Victor?" Draco mentally applauded himself for his witty retort, but the inner clapping ceased when he saw the expression on Hermione's face.

Victor Krum was the one person Hermione _never_ wanted mentioned in front of her- the publicity seeking rat. She had gone to visit him in Bulgaria after fourth year, only to find herself on the front page of every major paper and the object of every woman's hatred. She spent a week attempting to convince herself that Victor really cared for her and just wasn't using her to sell more action figures or Quidditch tickets and such, but in the end, she admitted to herself that she was just a publicity stunt and went home. The press really had a good time with that one, but fortunately, the news of the fiasco never spread to England. However, Hermione _did_ have to dodge the occasional Bulgarian tourist, but as those were quite rare, she just did her best to forget the incident.

"Let's just buy the shit so we can get the bloody hell out of here, all right?" she snapped.

Draco smirked. "Language, Granger! If only those idol-worshiping first years heard their goddess swear!"

Hermione only glared at him before turning on her heel to begin shopping for decorations.

* * *

"What do you think?" Hermione asked a few minutes later, shoving a couple boxes under Draco's nose, "Blue lights or silver?"

"How should I know, Granger?" Draco demanded. "I'm a bloke! We're not supposed to figure these things out! That's a woman's job."

"Chauvinist," Hermione huffed.

"Bra-burning feminist," Draco retorted.

"Arrogant prick."

"Insufferable know-it-all,"

"Now who's recycling insults, Malfoy?"

"Blue," Draco gave up, defeated.

"Thank you." Hermione went to pay for the blue lights.

And, in the back of the store, a wizened old sales clerk looked on at the pair, shaking his head knowingly.

"What're you looking at," demanded the haughty heir to the Malfoy fortune.

"Young love," sighed the man.

Draco concluded the man was batty and walked out the door to join Hermione.

* * *

"I could really go for a drink, right now," Draco said after they'd booked entertainment for the evening.

"Already?" asked Hermione, rolling her eyes slightly. "We've been here what, an hour?"

"Well," Draco defended, "It's hard work!" And with that he entered the Three Broomsticks.

"Why do you hate me so much, anyway?" he asked after setting a butterbeer in front of Hermione.

"Thanks," she said, surprised at what a gentleman he was being. "I suppose it's just something us Mudbloods don't grow out of."

"Oh." Draco sat for a few moments sipping his butterbeer. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hermione replied with a shake of her head. "It's what you were brought up to be-a conceited, arrogant, self-centered, egotistical, pompous asshole," The last part was said a bit teasingly.

"Wow," Draco blinked. "Redundant much? And besides, what do you know about how I was brought up? Maybe I really do hate mud-, I mean muggle borns, because I sincerely believe they are inferior."

"Do you really?" Hermione questioned. She watched the conflicting emotions in Draco's eyes and went on, "When I was a little girl, about seven or eight in primary school, there was a dark-skinned girl in my class. The other children would laugh at her and call her a 'Paki', even though we later found out she was Indian. I had a birthday party, and my parents said I had to invite all the girls in my class, and I protested, saying I didn't want the Paki to ruin the celebration."

"And what happened?" Draco asked, intrigued at this rare glimpse into Hermione's muggle life.

"My father spanked me and gave me a very long lecture on 'respecting other's cultures'. See, the thing is, is that I didn't _know_ it was wrong to make fun of her. I had just done what I had learned to do by watching the others in my class. So you see, I really can't hold your prejudices against you personally-I can only hope you can outgrow them."

Draco looked down at the table. "Maybe I have."

But Hermione didn't hear him and soon they were walking off to another store.

* * *

They had made arrangements for food, decorations, and entertainment and were almost ready to head back to the school, when Hermione let out a squeal. "Oh, look at those dress robes!"

Draco threw up his hands in the air. "Girls," he muttered, continuing to walk.

Hermione had other plans. "Please?" she batted her eyelashes. "I swear, it will only be five minutes. I just want to see what they look like!"

Draco looked at his watch.

"Four minutes," he countered.

"Four and a half."

"Starting now, and if your not out in four minutes and twenty seconds, I'm leaving without you."

Hermione threw her arms around Draco in a _very_ uncharacteristic hug, and Draco stood in the doorways of the shop stunned, as she tried on the robes.

Half an hour later, he was watching Hermione try on robe after robe. "I mean it Granger," he scowled. "Two more minutes and I'm _out._" Yet somehow, he didn't really mind. After all, some of those outfits looked rather...stunning on the witch.

"Just get the blue ones, already!" he said.

"But don't you think the pink looks better?"

Draco thought that they both made her look drop dead gorgeous. **_So tell her_**, a little voice in the back of his mind nagged.

_Are you daft?_ Draco argued with himself. _She'd laugh at me. And besides, it's not like I _like _Granger. I just happen to be a man who is very appreciative of the female form._

_**Coward.**_

"Get both," he suggested finally. "After all, I'm sure you'll find an occasion to wear both of them."

Hermione wondered why Draco looked as if he were arguing with himself and finally decided that men were completely insane and therefore didn't ask him what was wrong.

"All right then," she said cheerfully.

_I'm such an idiot,_ Draco said to himself, and, shaking his head graciously offered to carry Hermione's purchases for her. She surprisedly acquiesced, and they walked out the store.

* * *

"Wanna get ice cream?" Draco asked Hermione now that they were finally done shopping for her clothes.

Hermione stopped walking. "That was random."

"Not really, just felt like we could use a treat."

Hermione selected a strawberry cone and Draco ordered chocolate. "Ever wonder why we aren't, you know, _friends_?" he asked Hermione who was making quick work of the cone.

"Well," she pretended to think it over. "I suppose seven years of threats, taunting, and general animosity towards each other may account for it."

Draco felt a surge of his infamous 'charm' (the charm that had seduced many girls in the past). "Or perhaps it was seven years of pent-up sexual tension," he replied, his foot edging near hers.

Hermione burst into laughter. "So the stories _are_ true. You'll flirt with anyone that doesn't run away from you screaming!"

Draco was highly offended. "You may not have noticed it, Granger, but the war is over."

"The war with Voldemort, perhaps. But the war between us will likely last forever."

"Bloody hell, Hermione! Can't you just put the past behind you?" Draco yelled.

Truthfully, Hermione did not have any problem with Draco whatsoever. As he himself had put it, the war _was_ over, and he _had _matured-and not just his personality either. He had become quite good-looking, Hermione mused, watching the blond Slytherin finish off his ice cream.

"Fine," Hermione broke the uncomfortable silence. "I suppose we can be friends."

"Good," said Draco getting to his feet. Hermione did the same and they shook hands. As their hands met, something coursed through Draco's body, causing him to feel very light-headed and content, and he pulled on her hand, gently pulling her towards him and pressed his lips to hers.

Hermione Granger would normally have hexed, or at the very least slapped, any other person who took such liberties with her. However with Draco Malfoy, she merely pulled back and looked at him appraisingly.

"I knew it," she accused. "You _are_ just trying to seduce me."

"Perhaps," Draco responded with a grin. "But I guarantee that you'll enjoy it."

And, as he kissed her again, Hermione was forced to admit that she rather agreed.

A/N: I would be so eternally grateful if you would deign to review the above story. Please? I'll be your bestest friend!


End file.
